Cheerleader
by Tsar Bomba
Summary: It is a relationship of fire, jealousy and too much passion, held together by sheer animal magnetism and determination. The power of will. However, neither women are apt to refuse a challenge. Female Shepard/Miranda oneshot.


Time killing one shot inspired by the song Cheerleader by Grizzly Bear. Seemed appropriate considering the situation xD

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_Cheerleader_

An offhanded remark, careless mentions of names they both know. It's enough to stoke the flames once more. Enough to kill the static peace with fiery emotion and possessiveness. They are too similar. Too dominant. Too obstinate to ever admit they are in the wrong.

Both women are predators, stalking furiously back and forth across Miranda's office. The operative is better at hiding her emotions, but even she can no longer appear tame and unaffected. Her eyes meet Shepards and it is enough to bring a cruel twist to the Commander's lips. No more pretending. No more feigning indifference because the pressure had grown too strong. Always the same argument. Always the same battle to fight.

Just as one matter was taken care of, another would take its place. Shoot down one obstacle, another walls up stronger and meaner. And no matter how much they work through, the brief moments of softness and gentleness between the two crumbles like ash as the inferno takes over.

One message. That was all it had taken to destroy the thin veil once more. That damn asari just asking how the Commander was doing. That was all it took to set Miranda over the edge. To incite confrontation.

"God, let it go!" Shepard yells, her face a mask of barely hidden frustration and exasperation. "It doesn't mean a damn thing."

Always those same words, flying loose as bullets across the battlefield once more. Let it go. It doesn't mean anything. Just two days ago Miranda had screamed those same words, but in regards to Jacob, not Liara. Fighting over affairs that never happened. All speculation. All paranoia and pointless jealousy.

Then the guilt. The fear. There was no time to go through the designs of romance. The plotted course. Not with a suicide mission around the corner. It had been whirlwind of passion, overwhelming desire and crushing need. Long periods of furious love punctuated by vicious fights.

Miranda won't give in, won't let down her iron curtain of anger with the woman. The Commander's patience is thin. "Nevermind. I'll go." The words are steel cut, laced with bitterness as Shepard spins on her heel and storms from the room, leaving a dangerous haze of biotic energy in her wake.

So many fights, so many new beginnings yet neither woman grows. Unyielding and ruthless. Mean-tempered and flighty. Neither one can reconcile their possessiveness with the love they feel. Yet once the Commander is gone, a void is left in Miranda's heart, and she fights the urge to sprint after the woman.

Swallowing tight, she shifts in her seat, trying to focus on the text on the screen in front of her. Useless. She's furious. She so damn tired of that asari. She's so sick of the war between the two. She's tired of being Shepard's reluctant cheerleader. But the heat in her face and the sheer need to be near that damn woman is driving her mad. She stands so quickly that reports billow off her desk and fall to the floor ignored. The brief glances she gets from the crew as she leaves her office are recieved with a cold glare and they quickly look away. She runs through a million different apologies and scenarios in her mind, forming and disintegrating just as swiftly. Nothing was ever enough.

The elevator doors slide open and Miranda freezes. Shepard is standing there, leaning against the back wall. For a moment the two are silent, but then the tiniest smile creeps upon Shepard's pretty visage. It is forgiveness and an apology, and Miranda finds herself in the Commander's arms. The reaction is instant. There is heat and desire. Want and need. Their lips are rough and searching, claiming.

It is an imperfect relationship, held together by sheer magnetism and will. But neither of the women are prone to deny a challenge.


End file.
